


Brine

by thimble



Series: SASO 2017 [11]
Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 00:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12265080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thimble/pseuds/thimble
Summary: He thinks it's fitting, that his earliest memory is of water. Maybe living beside the ocean is what shaped him to be who he is now, a boy who seems to have saltwater in his veins instead of blood, who seems better suited to swim among fish than be around other people on land. Any way he saw it, he was always meant to swim, remembering the first time his parents took him to the beach, the first time he laid his eyes on the sea, glittering in the sun and looming farther beyond what his eyes can reach. Even as a child, he had no time for the sand or any other entertainment offered by the shore.He wanted the sea.[rinharu drabble dump for saso fills.01: saltwater02: chain-link fences03: liminal spaces]





	1. saltwater

**Author's Note:**

> written for [these](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22249.html?thread=11626217#cmt11626217) prompts.

He thinks it's fitting, that his earliest memory is of water. Maybe living beside the ocean is what shaped him to be who he is now, a boy who seems to have saltwater in his veins instead of blood, who seems better suited to swim among fish than be around other people on land. Any way he saw it, he was always meant to swim, remembering the first time his parents took him to the beach, the first time he laid his eyes on the sea, glittering in the sun and looming farther beyond what his eyes can reach. Even as a child, he had no time for the sand or any other entertainment offered by the shore.  
  
He wanted the sea.   
  


* * *

  
  
He's there with Makoto the first time he befriends the fisherman, the kindly old man giving them both some of his catch in plastic bags to take home and make dinner with. He never really spoke to the man — it's always been Makoto who made conversations flow — but he remembers the strong hands, the kind eyes.   
  
He's there with Makoto when they tell him what had happened to the fisherman after the storm.   
  
Neither of them really looked at the ocean the same way, after that, but the difference lay in how Haru still wanted to return to it, embracing both the life and destruction it brings.  
  
He understands, somehow, how things can be beautiful and terrible at the same time.  
  


* * *

  
  
Rin is shouting at him, his voice like an echo against the walls of Haru's heart and the blame that it was painted with, telling Haru things he knows aren't true.  _It's your fault,_  whisper the walls,  _you did this to him._  
  
He shakes his head to himself. He's already conquered these demons, but he didn't do it alone.  
  
Rin is angry (like Haru was) and it's only at himself (like Haru used to be, too.) He grabs the front of Haru's jacket as Haru tries to tell him everything, now, everything that's been pent up and screaming at him for not letting Rin know sooner, then Rin pulls his arm back and Haru catches his wrist and they fall to the ground, filthy and harried and bursting, until suddenly it stops.   
  
And then there's saltwater on Haru's face instead of his veins and for the first time in a long time Haru's glad to be on land, submerged only under the warmth of Rin's tears.  
  
_You're here_ , he wants to say, but he's always been more expressive with his silence so all he does is drink Rin in, drinks in the terror and beauty he brings, and Haru feels the way he feels when he's looking at the sea.


	2. chain-link fences

Like a backdrop in a play, it is a constant in their lives, unnoticed but all-encompassing, like mountains in the horizon or the sky on a hot day. On the day before Rin left for the first time, Haru stood before the naked cherry blossom tree, willing it to bloom if only for Rin's sake. Behind the tree was the chain-link fence, and beside him was Rin, grinning and talking about dreams and pointing at the phrase he wrote on the bricks as if it meant anything. As if it meant he would stay.   
  
Haru forgave him for leaving, though, just as he forgives him now for coming back.  
  


* * *

  
  
Rin can be cruel when he wants to be, and so can Haru. When Rin corners him and tells him all sorts of things he doesn't want to hear, when he lights fires under Haru against Haru's will as if he still had the right, something in Haru snaps. He never wanted to carry this blame, he never wanted to fight, but it's all Rin seems intent to do.   
  
He's backed into the chain-link fence and as images from that fateful day flicker in his mind, the words come out on their own, salt in a wound.  
  
"Don't say you're going to quit. Don't embarrass yourself." And, worst of all, "don't cry if you lose."  
  
Haru will remember the betrayal on Rin's face for years to come.

 

* * *

  
  
Later on, quietly as they're falling asleep, Rin will tell him about how Haru had never left his mind — not when he was in Australia, not when they were fighting — and how he'd been especially prominent one festival night when Rin saw a couple of kids together, friends just like they'd been when they were younger. How he'd ran as far away from the scene as he can and ended up in front of a pool, the water always a taunting presence, and how his fingers had curled into a chain-link fence as his heart seemed to give out.   
  
And Haru will whisper, into the red waves of Rin's hair, that even when he was Australia, and even when they were fighting, Rin had always been his friend, didn't he already know that?  
  


* * *

  
  
But for now, with the sunset above them and the summer on their skin, they put every other memory of the chain-link fence behind them as Haru presses Rin against it, this time, his hands gentle on Rin's jaw, his eyes earnest and closed. Their mouths meet under a cherry blossom tree in full bloom and Haru decides this is the only one he wants to keep.


	3. liminal spaces

One day, on the last vestiges of winter and just on the cusp of spring, Rin leaves, and Haru thinks maybe he'll never see him again. The world is a big, wide place — he's never seen it, but he can't even imagine what it must be like outside of the town he'd grown up in — and now Rin is heading out there, alone, and what are the chances, really, of ever running into him again when Haru thinks it a fluke that they met in the first place? Rin was nothing more than an annoyance who somehow always got his way, and Haru is glad to be rid of him, really, so why does his heart feel so big in his small chest? Why does it strain against his ribs when he looks at Rin and thinks,  _maybe I'll never see you again?_  
  


* * *

  
  
He's wrong, though, like he is with a number of other things.   
  
Rin had irritated him then, but he'd forgotten that Makoto once did, too, and Nagisa much more recently than that. The feeling that unfurled inside him at the thought of Rin was unbearable only because he cared. Only because Rin was his friend.   
  
A friend he thought was gone from his life for good until Haru is swimming in the pool after hours and suddenly Rin is there, in the lane beside him, like he didn't leave at all.   
  
Haru sucks in a breath underwater and surfaces, gasping, and when Rin notices him too he goes on and does the same. They pull themselves out of the pool, coughing out the last of the chlorine and staring at each other with wide eyes.   
  
"What are you doing in Australia, Haru!?"  
  
Rin has always been full of nonsense, but this is new, even for him. "I'm not in Australia. You're in Japan."  
  
"Eh?"  
  


* * *

  
  
They spend time catching up, not that there was much to catch up on. Rin had only been gone for a few weeks, but he has countless tales of the cities he's seen, of how much bigger everyone is, how small the town seemed in comparison. Haru stays quiet, for the most part, just listening, realizing that he'd missed the sound of Rin's voice, just a little. When Rin has run out of stories Haru asks the question that's been on both their minds: "how is this happening?"  
  
Rin, to his credit, doesn't try to seem smarter than he is. He says, "I dunno, but I'm happy to see you again, Haru."  
  
Haru looks away, lips pursed, which has always been the only response Rin needs to laugh.   
  


* * *

  
  
It isn't always guaranteed. Sometimes the time isn't right, or sometimes one of them isn't around to swim. When they do cross paths, though, Rin has his stories, and Haru has his silence; Rin has his smiles and Haru his averted eyes.   
  
Maybe Haru shouldn't noticed it sooner, since he saw Rin so often. Maybe he should've known not everything was okay. Maybe he shouldn't have shrugged off the hollowness he heard in Rin's laughter, chalked it up to Rin's need to seem happy all the time.   
  


* * *

  
  
A year passes, and instead of the strange portal that was their club pool, Haru sees Rin across him at the train tracks. He knows this is different, that this isn't magic, that Rin really is here with him, standing in Japan instead of disappearing to Australia when he goes out the door.  
  
The distance between them narrows as Haru runs across the tracks, too happy to see Rin to hold back his smiles. This time, he has stories too, but Rin seems like he doesn't want to hear them, not yet.   
  
Instead, he says, "let's race," and Haru has never been able to say no to him for very long.   
  


* * *

  
  
Rin loses and crumples up into a heap of elbows and tears on the floor. Haru doesn't understand how everything unfolds the way it does, only that Rin is swearing that he'll stop swimming forever and turning his back on Haru and running until he disappears out the door.   
  
He never returns to the club pool again after that, not through magic and not through dreams, and Haru thinks, maybe he'd been right about never seeing Rin again after all.


End file.
